


There's No Wrong Way

by ColtsAndQuills



Category: Supernatural
Genre: male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtsAndQuills/pseuds/ColtsAndQuills
Summary: Based on the prompt: Imagine trying to help Crowley steal candy out of vending machines.





	

“You bloody bastard-” Crowley growled at the machine, but it merely buzzed serenely back.

Of course, it would only take a flick of his wrist to throw one of the evening’s pedestrians right into the damned thing. A skull could be the perfect tool to break through the thin layer of glass keeping him from his choice of a midnight snack. And the touch of brutality might even be a satisfying way to relieve the frustration that had his temper building to a steady simmer.

But to use such force would be against the principle of the matter.

After all, he couldn’t get Dean’s self-contented smirk, those pearly whites flashing bright, out of his mind’s eye. That evening, when Crowley had been dragged along with the Winchesters like a dog on a leash, the hunter had sunk his teeth into his first bite of sinfully stolen chocolate with smug satisfaction. It had only taken a well-placed bump of a fist for Dean to get the vending machine to hand over a freebie.

So why in Lucifer’s name couldn’t he do the same?

“I should have you dragged back to hell and melted down to a chamberpot.”

Crowley’s foot connected with the machine hard enough to make the window shudder, but not a single calorie broke free and dropped for his efforts. His shoe, however, was scuffed from toe to vamp.

“That was Italian leather,” he snarled, his face nearly pressed to the glass.

“So why’s such a sharp-dressed man need to steal candy?”

The voice came from behind, male and melodic. Even before he stepped into the florescent lighting, Crowley could easily see the reflection of the stranger’s hair standing out in sharp relief against the background of the darkened park.

“Piss off. This one’s occupied," Crowley snapped.

“These work differently in England, or did it eat your dollar?”

Crowley’s nostrils flared as he released a slow breath. What was wrong with young people these days? Sticking their nose in here, poking into your business there. No fucking respect for a demon’s privacy.

He smiled tightly and turned his head to the stranger, who was stepping forward to stand beside him. He hoped when he smashed the boy's head through the glass that it wouldn’t leave too much of a mess on the candy wrappers.

“Well, maybe you can be of some hel-” Crowley’s eyes raised, meeting those of the young man. And immediately, almost imperceptibly, one of his dark brows lowered. Anyone who knew Crowley would have been set on guard with that look, but the stranger smiled jovially in response and gestured toward the top of the vending machine.

“What your problem is, is you’re going about this the wrong way.” The bottom wing that overhung the dispenser tray creaked as the boy positioned a brown loafer along its metal rim, gaining enough leverage to hoist upward and peek over the top of the vending machine. “You know the expression: ‘Brains over brawn.’”

“I might have heard it.”

From above, there was a distinct _clack_ as a small, plastic panel was moved aside. The man reached into a leather messenger bag that hung from his shoulder and pulled out  a stretch of wire that caught the ruddy lamplight like a thread of spider’s webbing.

“Of course, a clever mind will only get you so far.” He winked at Crowley and caught his lower lip between perfect, white teeth as he slipped the hair’s width of metal behind the casing.

Crowley quietly observed, his attention more on the man than the task. What this boy lacked in Dean’s directness he was making up for in finesse.

“There we go!” The stranger hopped down and collected the two bars that had clattered into the bin. “Peanut butter for me.” A pack of Reese’s found its way into a navy blue blazer pocket. “And for you - well, you look like a dark chocolate kind of gentleman.”

Crowley accepted it with a smile. “Stealing is a sin, you know. Clever, attractive golden boy like yourself should take better care of his life. You know where this path can lead.”

The man laughed. “I already know where I’m heading. This won’t change a thing.”

The wrapped crinkled in the silence between them. After all the fuss, Crowley particularly savored the bittersweet square melting on his tongue.

“On the contrary. You just earned yourself another year. Make the most of it.”

The only thing more satisfying than the chocolate was the degree to which the young man’s jaw dropped as he vanished. Well enough. There would be time to talk later.


End file.
